


Sacred

by Anonymous



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Anal Fingering, Chikan, Dark, Dissociation, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Molestation, Non-Consensual Groping, Psychological Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 17:14:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18743467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Ignis had lectured him before on how inappropriate it was for a prince to use public transport. Noctis had scoffed at the idea. On his way to Prompto's house, he took the train, wanting nothing more than to blend with the common people.A regretful decision.





	Sacred

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags.

Noctis missed his stop.

He did not realise until the train was well and truly far from where he was meant to be going. He emerged from his dissociative stupor to the monotone voice of the announcer on the overhead speakers. The name of the next station did not even register in his brain. His ears were buzzing with the sound of machinery and the feeling of a foreign hand inside his boxers. The sun was beginning to set in the distance, bathing the rush-hour car in a warm orange glow while a stranger caressed between the future King’s thighs. Two fingers boldly reached to stroke his balls and Noctis’s mind could only respond with denial. 

When he had felt the first brush on his rear, three stations before, he had dismissed it. The train was packed, accidents happen. Likely someone’s bag. Noctis had sleepily finished texting Prompto and put his phone away when the telltale sensation of his ass being squeezed made his limbs go cold. Heartbeat rising, he froze and waited for a sign that it was all in his imagination. The day wasn't going to be kind, however. Seconds later there was another grope, more brazen than before. This cannot be happening, he had told himself, suddenly faint. This cannot be real. His head was swimming with white noise, but the hand on his body did not stop. Gripping harder on the handrail, Noctis had made a limp attempt to shift away from the touch but there was nowhere to escape amongst the many bodies surrounding him. A sense of claustrophobia and unreality began to overtake him. Time stretched into a long haze. The rustle of his own school trousers being pulled open came to him from a distance, as if he was merely a spectator to the scene. His pretty blue eyes moved around the car in a dreamlike state, taking no information at all. Next thing he knew, he was coming back to his senses only to notice he had missed his stop.

Amongst their fellow passengers, no one looked up or around. Insomnia lived at a ruthless pace. After the daily grind of work or school or both, the average person had no interest or energy to spare for their surroundings. The people crowding Noctis kept their eyes on newspapers and magazines, flipped through cheap paperback books and expensive tablets, tapped at their phone screens, daydreamed in exhaustion. Alive yet dead-looking, they remained oblivious to what was happening right next to them. Perhaps they didn't care, Noctis thought as the stranger behind him kneaded a reddened asscheek. He wished he could somehow not care either, since there was no discernible way out of his torment. He tried to empty his mind, ignore the act until it was over. Not possible. The more he tried, the more conscious he became of that wandering hand. It pried him open in ways no one ever had, slithering into forbidden crevices and caressing places Noctis himself would not go near. The prince couldn’t see who was assaulting him, only submit while they made him painfully aware of just how soft and pliable his flesh was. 

Noctis kept his eyes to the window, watching the blur of old buildings, storefronts and power lines that made the landscape of suburban Insomnia. He pictured Prompto’s house beyond the horizon, drawing further and further away. The phone in his pocket was probably ringing, but Noctis did not dare move to check. He simply stood, paralysed and mortified, while someone whose face he had never seen circled a finger around his entrance. On his right, a suited office lady was asleep on her briefcase. Next to her, a middle-aged man in headphones nodded to a soundless tune. The whole place smelled like old shoes and the stale despair of people who couldn't wait to be home. No one would come to rescue him.

He felt his cheeks being spread, the sweaty cleft between them exposed to the cooling air. He flinched with a muffled cry, hot blood painting his face. The prince had never been with anyone. No one had seen him naked since childhood. He had never held hands or shared a kiss. He had not as much as entertained the loneliness that years now had festered in his chest. Being the heir to the throne meant his body belonged to Lucis before anyone else, including himself. Dating was out of the question. His father had been kind enough to leave him unsupervised at most times, but duty lingered. It was his responsibility to put emotion aside and keep his virtue until a suitable marriage could be arranged. His thoughts wandered to that same morning and Iggy’s lecture on how inappropriate it was for a prince to use public transport. Noctis had scoffed at the idea and taken the train anyway.

The sharp sting of a finger testing his unprepared hole made Noctis stumble onto the handrail, hitting his knee. The shock of being penetrated, even partially, stirred his survival instinct. He scrambled to pull away, clumsy, panicked. It was no good. An ironlike grip tightened around his balls and the stranger's spare hand twisted his wrist, keeping him still. Noctis saw the people around him shuffle uncomfortably at the minor disturbance and his stomach churned in horror. Someone had glanced down, just low enough to see the boy being groped and had looked away, unsettled. The prince wanted to die where he was standing. What if someone recognised him? The thought of being seen in this situation was suddenly worse than enduring it. So he decided to endure, withering back into his place and shifting his leather school bag to cover his shame. On his knee a throbbing bruise was already coming into bloom.

The groping resumed, merciless. Aided by sweat and some unknown slick substance, the finger from earlier managed to find its way inside him. Noctis couldn’t breathe. His nose and eyes began to sting with unshed tears. “Stop,” he muttered weakly in the space between them, knowing it would fall upon deaf ears. The sense of failure was overwhelming once the pain subsided. The tight ring of muscles that had kept the last of his dignity intact now pulsed invitingly around the foreign object. Against the prince’s will, his body opened up to its own violation. Starved for touch, for release, it produced its first hint of pleasure and Noctis knew he would never be the same again. A bloodline of proud warriors and a lifetime of martial arts training, yet in the crucial moment all he could do was cry for his stolen virginity while his ass begged for more.

Arousal, forcefully planted in his body, took root as a skillful hand wrapped around his length, coaxing the flaccid cock into life. His molester wasn't even in a hurry. They took their time, moving in a languid rhythm, humiliating him with his body’s own betrayal. Noctis had fantasised about receiving a handjob before. On those particularly hot days when he and Prompto would share an ice cream after class, shirts unbuttoned and ties undone, he would look at his friend and fantasise about a great many things. But not like this. Noctis shut his eyes tight and tears rolled down his face, at last unhindered. They trickled to the collar of his shirt, leaving damp trails for his hair to stick onto. He did his best to imagine a different setting, a different pair of hands but there was no way to make his fantasy work. The callouses, the audacious confidence, the wanton knowledge of how bodies work were all incompatible with the image of a sweet teenager on the cusp of self-awareness. 

He felt his hole stretch around a second finger and winced. For a second he wondered if this was how his day would end, impaled on a faceless pervert; ass-fucked in the middle of a busy train, in broad daylight, amongst his future royal subjects. He blinked and looked up only to catch a glimpse of his red nose in the glass. Below, his weeping cock was being stroked with leisurely abandon, peeking over his clothes, visible to anyone who might want to feast upon the display. His belt undone, Noctis’s trousers barely clung to his skinny hips. His body rocked forward with a small motion that could not be mistaken for anything else, if only someone bothered to look. But no one did. The sound of running steel drowned away the whimpers Noctis couldn't hold back. Knuckles going white on the rail, he buried his face in his sleeve, trying to draw his focus away from the orgasm building in his abdomen. He could pull a sword out of thin air, if he wanted to. He could cut off those hands and make sure they never did this again. But in the oppressive stillness of the car, he could not bring himself to cause a single ripple of disorder. 

Noctis did not realise he had been biting his tongue, until he could taste copper. The phone in his pocket blinked visibly, but he knew there was no way he could answer. The thought of Prompto making call after call, waiting, worrying, suddenly agitated him like nothing else. He had to find his way back. In a last ditch effort, he dug his dull nails into the hand working his front and whispered into the nothingness, “...please.” The moans trapped in his throat made his voice hoarse, dry. He couldn't even tell if it was audible over the ambient noise of the train. Unable to make eye contact, he simply held on, hoping.

In truth, he didn't expect much to come of his pathetic gesture, but to his surprise the stranger’s grip loosened. Relieved and terrified, Noctis watched the hand retreat, its back now marked in red crescents. His own cock was left alone and throbbing, trapped in his waistband, tip flushed and glistening with precum. He looked at it like he was seeing it for the first time; it was nothing impressive, a mere five and a half inches, yet in that moment his whole existence seemed to revolve around it. Abruptly cold and neglected, it twitched, seeking the attention it had lost. Noctis realised he could come in a few strokes if only he allowed himself to touch it. He had never been more aroused in his entire short life, and the knowledge of that was to be his exact punishment. The fingers which had nauseated him earlier began to withdraw and he found his ass clenching around them, his hips pushing back, eager to keep him full against his conscious wishes. The stranger took a step away, leaving the prince to simmer in humiliation, hard and empty and sore. Noctis feebly tried to button his trousers with the same hand that held his bag and saw himself trembling. His legs barely held him up. 

For the first time, he braved a glance above his shoulder. He searched amongst the shallow, tired faces but nothing stood out. His attacker could have been anyone. The thought filled him with paranoia and he hastened to pop that trouser button closed. These were the citizens he was sworn to protect, the same people his father was wasting away for. Once the next stop arrived, he shouldered his way out of the train, his feet as frantic as his heart. He didn't bother tucking his shirt back in. He didn't even check the name of the station before he rushed towards the building and into the nearest bathroom. He just needed a splash of cold water, he told himself. A moment alone to find his bearings. Instead, he unconsciously walked into a stall and dropped his bag to the ground, digging for his aching erection. 

He hadn't noticed his zipper was undone until he reached for it. Shame burning him from the inside out, he masturbated into the toilet, coming harder than he had ever come before. He looked down at the semen staining the seat -the filth that would one day continue his sacred bloodline- and laughed through his nose before a violent sobbing overtook him. 

He arrived at Prompto’s place over two hours late, eyes still red at their corners. “Fell asleep on the train,” he said with a meek smile and a playful punch landed on his arm.

“You dork. Don't scare me like that.”

“Sorry.”

They studied for their geography exam and played games into the night, just how they had planned. Prompto’s mother brought them fruit sandwiches and he took a polite three bites before excusing himself. The rest of his plate went untouched. If anyone heard him throwing up later, they didn't say anything. Perhaps peasant food was too much for a prince’s weak constitution. Perhaps he was ill and that was why he spent so long in the shower.

At 4 AM, he padded out of his bed and climbed into Prompto’s. The latter did not protest. Mumbling something incoherent, he wrapped Noctis’s clammy hands around his waist and went back to sleep. The back of his neck was exposed and Noctis nuzzled him close, taking in the comforting scent of warm skin in the summer. They stayed that way until the grey light of dawn began to rise under the curtains. 

He took a taxi home in the morning, paying half his monthly allowance to be transported across Insomnia to his apartment while his friend joked about the royal family’s bottomless pockets. 

“You could have just phoned Iggy to bring around one of those fancy Citadel cars.”

“And distract him from his thesis? Never.”

“Guess we can't risk you accidentally napping your way to Accordo, either.”

“Trains don't travel across the ocean, man.”

“See? That's why I need your help with geography.”

The train incident was never mentioned. Noctis went about his life without a word, quietly throwing out the boxers he had been wearing that day. Not once did he complain again when Ignis insisted on driving him everywhere. 

Only when he was alone, curled up in his bed, would he think back to what happened and reach for the bottle of lube that had since taken residence in his dresser. The spare phone he bought, to browse porn without being monitored, was kept hidden under his mattress. Sweat staining his pillow, he would rest his face beside the screen in the dead of the night and finger his ass with intentional roughness. The flickering light would be the only thing between him and the all-consuming dark; illuminating the desperate, confused pleasure on his face as he stroked his cock over an endless array of train molestation videos.


End file.
